The air above the Magical Academy was still thick with the remnants of battle. The sky, once a vast expanse of blue, had been tainted by lingering embers and dissipating magic, casting eerie shadows upon the now-deserted grounds. The only sounds that remained were the distant echoes of powerful clashes—a grand duel between Archmages still raging not far from here.

  Yet, amid the spectacle of the ongoing battle, Eo felt nothing but indifference.

  He had observed them long enough. Their spells, though complex, had become predictable—an endless exchange of refined magic, yet lacking in true ingenuity. A tedious dance of power.

  Bored, Eo let his gaze drift across the academy’s perimeter.

  Once a prestigious institution brimming with scholars and ambitious young mages, it now stood in utter abandonment. Not a single professor, not a single student remained. The grand halls, once filled with the murmurs of lectures and the crackling of arcane energy, were now silent, their occupants having fled after Eo’s grand display of False Faith magic.

  He had no interest in testing his abilities on fragile mortals—they were far too weak to withstand even the lowest levels of his experimentation. Rather than risk their deaths, he had simply forced them all to leave.

  And so, the once-renowned Magical Academy had become nothing more than an empty ruin—a husk of knowledge, stripped of purpose.

  A sudden gust of wind carried the scent of salt and brine, drawing Eo’s attention toward the ocean beyond.

  His thoughts stirred.

  His gaze lingered on the horizon, his mind a whirlwind of contemplation. He had reached a point where his current environment no longer sufficed. He needed something more—a proper sanctuary, a domain that could serve as a foundation for his growing power.

  And as the idea took root within him, he knew exactly how to manifest it.

  Without hesitation, Eo moved.

  He weaved through the remnants of the academy, his form a blur of ethereal mist. As he traveled, his energy seeped into the earth, carving intricate formations into the very foundation of the land.

  The engravings spread like veins of darkness, weaving a complex network of abyssal symbols that pulsed with ominous energy. But he did not stop at merely engraving the land.

  With a mere thought, he summoned the earth itself.

  The ground trembled violently. The remains of the academy—walls, towers, shattered lecture halls—began to collapse, swallowed whole by the shifting terrain. Stone cracked and crumbled, giving way to something far greater.

  From the depths of the abyss, a new structure began to rise.

  Blackened stone erupted from the ground, twisting and shaping itself under Eo’s control. Jagged spires pierced the sky, their tips adorned with abyssal sigils that shimmered with a deep, unnatural glow. Walls of obsidian and shadowsteel stretched high, their surfaces adorned with runes of imprisonment and concealment.

  A fortress born from the abyss itself.

  The once-proud Magical Academy was no more. In its place stood a monolithic castle, exuding an overwhelming presence that seemed to devour the very light around it.

  Eo did not stop at its physical manifestation.

  Raising a hand, he layered the fortress with enchantments, each formation reinforcing the next. A thick fog, dense with killing intent, coiled around the exterior—a manifestation of the Abyssal Prison.

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  It was not merely mist.

  It was a presence. A force. An invisible sentinel that would warp the perception of all who entered uninvited. Those who dared to step within its range would feel the suffocating weight of thousands of unseen eyes watching them, draining their will and clouding their judgment.

  But that was only the outer layer.

  Beneath it lay a second formation—an intricate illusion array, inspired by the magic he had once observed in Frid.

  This illusion was not a mere trick of the mind. It was alive, adapting to each intruder’s weaknesses, weaving visions that would break even the strongest of wills. A labyrinth of endless horrors for those foolish enough to trespass.

  Only those who Eo permitted would see the fortress as it truly was.

  Now complete, Eo stepped back to admire his creation.

  The Abyssal Castle stood as a titan of dark majesty, its structure imposing yet eerily elegant. Unlike the crude fortresses built by mortals, it did not rely on sheer size alone to inspire fear. Its beauty lay in its perfect symmetry, its seamless fusion of abyssal energy and material form.

  The walls, though appearing solid, shifted ever so slightly—as though they breathed. The obsidian that formed its exterior was not just stone, but an extension of the abyss itself. It pulsed with life, its surface adorned with living veins of magic, shifting like liquid shadow beneath the moonlight.

  At its heart, a grand tower loomed higher than all the rest, its peak shrouded in swirling darkness, unseen to all except those who bore the essence of the abyss.

  And within its core—a throne, waiting.

  Not for a king.

  But for a being far beyond such trivial titles.

  For the first time, Eo had a place to call his own.

  A sanctuary.

  A fortress of knowledge, power, and evolution.

  And this was only the beginning.

  --

  The battle between Caelum, Frid, Yeba, and Vienna raged on, their magic colliding with earth-shaking force. Spells erupted like fireworks across the sky, casting the battlefield in shifting hues of light and shadow. Each combatant fought with ferocity, their movements honed by years of mastery.

  And yet—all at once, they stopped.

  A wave of immense magical pressure swept over them, crashing into their senses like an unrelenting tide. It was not merely powerful—it was unnatural, a force unlike anything they had ever encountered before.

  Their gazes turned as one toward the horizon, toward where the Magical Academy should have been. But the academy was gone.

  Instead, something else had risen in its place.

  Yeba and Vienna froze. A creeping, primal fear took root in their chests as they beheld the monolithic structure emerging from the ruins.

  Dark, jagged spires clawed at the sky, as if the abyss itself had surfaced to stake its claim upon the world. Walls of blackened stone pulsed with an eerie, shifting glow, breathing like a living entity. And from its depths, a thick fog of killing intent seeped outward, coiling like a serpent around its newly formed domain.

  It was more than just a fortress.

  It was a statement.

  An announcement to the world that something beyond their understanding had taken root here.

  Vienna clenched her fists, struggling to steady her breath. "What... is that?"

  Yeba did not answer. Her usually composed expression was marred by something rare—uncertainty. Even without knowing the fortress’s nature, he could feel it.

  This was no mere stronghold.

  It was a prison. A domain of something ancient and powerful.

  While the two watched in a mixture of awe and dread, Frid and Caelum reacted differently.

  They did not just see the fortress.

  They felt it.

  The moment the fortress took shape, an invisible force pressed down upon them—not just upon their bodies, but upon their very souls. It was as if the world itself demanded that they submit.

  Without hesitation, they dropped to their knees.

  Caelum’s head hung low, his breathing uneven. His mind, usually sharp and disciplined, struggled to comprehend what he was sensing. This presence… this authority…

  It was unlike anything he had ever encountered.

  Not the crushing weight of a tyrant’s dominion.

  Not the divine presence of a celestial being.

  It was something older. Deeper. A force that did not seek submission—it simply was. And in its presence, resisting felt meaningless.

  Beside him, Frid knelt as well, his body trembling. Not from fear—but from recognition.

  He had felt something similar before. A force reminiscent of a being from ages past… something ancient, something that should not exist in this era.

  And yet—it was here.

  Silence fell.

  Even the distant sounds of battle seemed to fade into nothingness. The wind stilled. The very air itself held its breath, as if the world hesitated to acknowledge what had just transpired.

  For a long moment, no one moved. No one spoke.

  All they could do was stare at the fortress that should not be.

  A symbol of something beyond mortal comprehension.

  A herald of change.

  And at its heart—Eo.